


Ready to Rumble

by Tipsy_Kitty



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JDM recruits Jared to participate in his "winner takes all" underground wrestling club. Jensen is the undefeated champ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ready to Rumble

Jared almost turns around five times on the drive to the field house, almost turns back three more times as he makes his way to Entrance C and checks in with the guard at the door.

“One of Morgan’s boys?” the guard asks, looking completely disinterested as he glances at Jared’s ID.

“Yes, sir,” Jared says, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Changing area’s down the hall to the left,” he says, gesturing vaguely behind him.

“Thank you,” Jared mumbles, but the guard has already turned his attention back to his cell phone.

Changing area. What a laugh. Jared wipes his clammy palms onto his jeans as he makes his way to the locker room. The corridor is dimly lit and run down, chunks of glossy grey brick missing from the walls here and there. The field house had been built in the ’20s and was probably once state of the art, but these days it was lucky to play host to junior league hockey and roller derby bouts.

And apparently JD Morgan’s “special” invite-only events.

He finds an empty row of lockers, sits down on the hard, wooden bench, and spends about 10 minutes slowly untying his left shoe.

“New blood, huh?” says a voice behind him, and Jared jumps. He turns and finds himself with a face full of the speaker’s junk, barely contained by a vibrant orange banana hammock.

Jared blushes furiously and turns away. “That obvious?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I’m Aldis, by the way.”

“Jared.”

Aldis whistles and Jared looks up quickly.

“What?”

“JD’s got you going against our undefeated champ.”

Jared slumps. Of course he did.  Morgan had made it pretty clear that Jared probably wouldn’t win his first time out. He wasn’t paying Jared to win, he was paying him because his audience loved to see straight boys take it up the ass.

_“Are you straight?” Morgan had asked as an afterthought._

_“Mostly?” Jared certainly wasn’t going to go into his tentative bicurious activities for Morgan’s benefit._

_“Been fucked before?” Morgan was chewing on an unlit cigar as he talked. Jared watched it bob up and down between his lips._

_“No...”_

_“Perfect. Be at the old field house on 21st next Friday night, I’ll make it worth your while, kid.”_

_The price he had quoted would pay Jared's rent for almost three months, so he had agreed._

“Who’m I up against?” Jared asks as he finally begins stripping off his clothes.

“Ackles. They call him the Jackhammer.”

Jared sighs again. _Of course they do_. He wonders if he has time for a little extra prep before the match begins.

 

 

 

 

Jared might not be excited about the odds of losing his ass virginity in front of a hundred rich, lecherous spectators, but he’s still an athlete and a competitor. He runs through some of the mental exercises he used to do during his high school quarterback days, psyching himself up for the match to come. When the first wrestling match begins, he slips a robe over his own Speedos (a humiliating cherry red) and lurks by the hallway to the locker room entrance that feeds into the gym, trying to pick up pointers.

The first match has only just started when he senses someone standing near him, and when he turns he sees cool green eyes looking him up and down.

“So you’re the fresh meat.”

“That’s what they keep telling me.”

The man smirks. He’s a little bit shorter than Jared but he looks quick and strong. Jared takes a deep, steadying breath before adding, “You must be the Jackhammer.”

“Aw, you sweet talker,” the man replies. “You can just call me Jensen.”

Jared rolls his eyes, but by the time he can come up with a decent comeback Jensen is gone.

 

 

 

 

“In this corner,” the announcer is saying with what Jared thinks is a little too much glee, “our un-de-feated champ-i-on Jeeeeensen ‘the Jackhammer’ Ackles!”

His opponent struts onto the mat cock first and Jared narrows his eyes, feeling the first licks of competitive fire he needs to actually win this thing.

“And the challenger, a first-timer in our midst, folks!”  Burst of applause that makes Jared want to punch each spectator in the nose. “Jared the Panther Padalecki!”

“More like a house kitty,” Jensen calls. Jared would roll his eyes if he had time—at the dumbass nickname  as well as Jensen’s response to it—but there’s a whistle blowing and suddenly he’s circling Jensen around the mat, calculating whether he should go on the offensive or wait to be charged. Jensen makes up his mind for him by hurling himself across the mat, his gleaming, oiled body reflecting the arena lights, and Jared braces for impact. Jensen’s 170-and-change of solid muscle, so the look on his face when Jared upends him would be comical, if Jared didn’t have more important things to worry about.

Jensen goes down hard and Jared dives on top, slick fingers grasping for purchase, and he takes an early lead, hooking one of his long legs around Jensen’s and holding him in place as he scrambles to pin Jensen’s shoulders to the mat.

Jensen’s surprise quickly turns to determination and he heaves Jared off and onto his back, planting his knees wide between Jared’s thighs and grasping his “costume,” and before Jared can fully process what’s happening, Jensen’s ripping the flimsy material and Jared finds himself wrestling bare-assed naked in front of a cheering crowd.

“Oh, it’s on, fucker,” Jared growls, and Jensen gives him a feral grin.

“That so, Kitten?” Jensen sneers. “We’ll see how much you have to say when you’re choking on my dick.”

Jared’s hands fight for purchase on Jensen’s slick hips as he tries to throw him off, but Jensen gives Jared’s cock a quick, hard tug and Jared’s so startled, he arches up into Jensen’s hard stomach.

“You like that, Kitten?” Jensen growls.

And the thing is, Jared _does_.

Still, he’s not going to just roll over. He manages to flip Jensen hard onto his back, but just as he’s grasping for Jensen’s green briefs, Jensen performs some tricky leg swipe, and Jared finds himself spread out on his back across Jensen’s chest, dazed and staring at the bright ceiling lights. Jensen moves quickly, snaking his arms and legs through Jared’s so even though Jared’s lying square on top of Jensen, he's completely restrained, arms flopping uselessly by his head while his legs are spread wide and pinned in place by Jensen’s.

If Jared knew a little bit more about actual wrestling, they might have been at an impasse but since most of his knowledge came from the occasional episode of Raw, he realizes pretty quickly he’s been outmatched. Every attempt to slither out of Jensen’s grasp results in a tighter hold. Then Jensen is rolling them over so Jared’s face is grinding into the slippery mat beneath him, rough hands on his shoulders and a knee in his back.

In desperation Jared tries to tap out, and hears a low throaty chuckle against his ear.

“There’s no tapping out, Kitten. Not till you’ve come on my cock.”

Jared makes one last attempt to throw off his opponent but he’s well and truly pinned like a bug on a nail.

He raises his head a fraction, takes in the cheering crowd, the cameraman lurking nearby to document everything for the, oh right, optional web download that Jared had tried and mostly succeeded in forgetting about. Panic flares bright in his chest—that his grandma will suddenly figure out how Google works, that Jensen will hurt him worse than what he’s been imagining.

Jared’s a big guy, and also Jared’s a _guy_ , so sue him if he’s never thought too much about fighting off sexual aggressors. But here, in front of a crowd of leering men, it becomes easy to imagine being passed around like a party favor after Jensen has fucked him, and oh shit, Jensen is _going to fuck him_... His breath stutters as he realizes how truly helpless he is.

“That’s right, gonna take my cock so good,” Jensen growls as fingers glide between his ass cheeks. “Gonna give you the pounding you need, Kitten.”

Jared struggles against the hold fruitlessly as Jensen leans in closer, and then a soft voice is murmuring into his ear.

“Hey, you doing okay? You don’t have to go through with this.”

Jared turns his head enough to catch Jensen’s eye, sees that Jensen is trying to reassure him out of range of the camera mic. He’s still smirking, but his eyes show concern, and Jared realizes how much of The Jackhammer’s persona is a play acted out for the crowd. And though there’s still a wall of solid muscle holding him to the mat, Jared understands that he could stop this, that they’ve all just been playing a game—for the crowd, for money, hell, some of the contestants just for fun.

Suddenly he can breathe again and he nods, minutely.

“Show me what you got, Jackhammer,” he says, sounding much braver than he feels, and Jensen winks at him before hauling him up to his knees, shoulders still pressed to the mat, and prying his ass apart.

“Look at that tiny hole, waiting for my cock, you ready for me Kitten?”

Jared snorts. “All I’m hearing’s a lot of talk.”

Jensen grins, leans down and licks a stripe from Jared’s balls up to his rectum, and Jared’s cock, which had been interested enough until things started getting real, fattens up again.

Jared’s body is still slick with coconut oil, inside and out, and Jensen’s thumbs slide into his hole with ease. Jared gasps at the sensation as his rim is stretched open, and then Jensen’s hot tongue is there again, licking between his thumbs and stretching Jared out and Jared starts shaking.

He slides one hand down towards his own cock, bobbing between his legs and begging for stimulation.

 “Nuh uh, Kitten, that’s mine,” Jensen says, batting at Jared’s hand, and then Jensen’s hot cockhead is nudging at his entrance. Jared plants his knees firmly, willing his body to relax, and when Jensen enters him with a grunt the crowd erupts in cheers.

He’s played around before, with his own fingers, with toys, but nothing compares to the sensation of Jensen sliding inside and filling him completely. Jared forgets the crowds, the lights, the camera, focusing solely on where his body joins with Jensen’s, the way Jensen’s grinding slow circles against Jared while he waits for Jared to get used to his cock. Jensen’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he caresses Jared’s ass, spreads his cheeks even further, and then finally starts moving again, rocking into him.

It’s slow at first, frustratingly slow, and Jared tries to push back but he doesn’t have enough traction, his knees slipping around on the mat. He looks up, straight into the camera, and says “You call that a jackhammer?”

Jensen laughs a little with surprise, and then says “Oh, Kitten, that was a mistake.”

Jared finds himself flipped easily onto his back again, knees over Jensen’s shoulders and then Jensen’s pounding into him furiously, alternately slapping Jared’s ass and slapping at his hands as he tries to get a hand on his leaking cock.

“Fuck, c’mon,” Jared says, eyes rolling back in his head. He gives in and rides it out as Jensen slams into him, impossibly fast and hard, his fingers gripping bruises into Jared’s upper thighs where he holds him open.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jared breathes, and Jensen finally reaches forward, gives Jared’s dick three hard tugs, and that’s all Jared needs before he’s coming all over his stomach.

Then Jensen pulls out and shoots his own load all over Jared with a half-bitten cry.

Jared lays with his eyes closed, dazed, while someone wipes him down with a warm towel. They’re given a couple of minutes to catch their breath before the ref pulls them to their feet, raising Jensen’s arm in victory.

He watches Jensen from the corner of his eye, sees when Jensen raises one eyebrow as though to ask if Jared’s okay, and Jared realizes with startling clarity that he’s never been more ready in his life for a rematch.

 


End file.
